Memory
by Anais Lynn
Summary: Memories, like embers, keep us warm...  The Hush Sound. Shoebox Project Tribute... Slash... Oneshot.


**Two years ago, I read the Shoebox Project (on LiveJournal) on the recommendation of a friend. It not only changed my perspective on fanfiction and writing, but also my perception of the entire Harry Potter canon. In this story, there are several references to the Shoebox Project, and I should make it clear that I attribute more of this to ladyjaida and dorkorific than I do to J.K. Rowling, although Harry Potter and all affiliated characters belong to Rowling, Warner Bros., etc. However, this piece is a tribute to ladyjaida and dorkorific and the colossal effort they have put into the Shoebox Project. If you have not already read it, I strongly, strongly suggest you do so. Immediately. Make sure you have several hours and a nice cup of tea. And maybe a few tissues. **

**Thank you, ladyjaida and dorkorific. We love you.**

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"Moony," Sirius asks as he drops his coat on the bed, "what are you doing?"

Remus doesn't even turn around. "Hang your coat up," he says, realigning the pleat in Sirius's trousers. "I'm ironing, Sirius. What does it look like?"

"Of course you're ironing, but you're ironing my trousers," Sirius says, slightly bewildered. He comes up and peers over Remus's shoulder. "You're ironing the _belt loops_ in my trousers." Remus's jaw sets and he sighs.

"Well, they… crinkle if you don't, and then your belt gets stuck, and…" he attempts to explain, but Sirius flops on the bed.

"Moony, you're ironing my belt loops," he sighs, one hand thrown dramatically over his eyes. "There's no hope for you, lad, none at all." Remus applies more force to his iron, and steam arises in a cloud.

"Well, at least I don't iron underwear like _some_ people's mothers do!" he protests, setting the iron on its haunches and turning the pants over.

"Yes, poor Peter, the silly bloke. Never forgot us finding his neatly pressed undergarments and hanging them from the window, though, did he?" Sirius gets up, comes up behind Remus as he begins to iron again. "Anyway," Sirius murmurs, setting his chin on Remus's shoulder and trailing his fingers from his hips to his stomach and up his chest, "you're not my mother; you're my clandestine gay lover."

Remus blushes furiously and his hand twitches, nearly burning himself with the iron. He yelps. Sirius hits his chin on Remus's shoulder and pulls back, sitting on the bed.

"Sirius, it's rather… rather hard for me to do something, something like this where I'm wielding a hot object and you're, well, erm…"

"Caressing you with utmost passion?" Sirius suggests; a wicked gleam in his eye but his face completely innocent. "Whispering sweet nothings in your delicate ear?" He stands and nibbles on said ear for effect. Remus melts.

"I hardly think… hardly think my ear is… delicate," Remus attempts, leaning into Sirius. He breathes heavily as Sirius starts trailing kisses down his neck but valiantly tries to speak anyway.

"I have to… to turn off the iron, Sirius!" Remus, with some effort and great reluctance, pulls away, but Sirius grabs him and pulls him back.

"_Expotens_," he whispers, and the little orange light on the iron blinks out. Remus has time to wonder, as Sirius pulls him down onto the bed and begins to undo his tie, why Sirius was so good at wandless magic when Remus was a year out of school and still had to point his finger. If Remus had spoken that spell, all the power in the flat would have gone out for lack of the caster's focus, despite the caster's best efforts. But Sirius can effortlessly concentrate his power into one single spot- kind of like what he's currently doing to a very tender spot on Remus's chest.

Remus gasps, and when he breathes in, he can taste Sirius's magic- his throat burns with it. Sirius is one of the only true "Purebloods" that Remus has ever met- the magic in his blood is so old, and so potent, that Remus can feel it in every pore of his being when Sirius releases it. Or perhaps it has to do with the dog thing.

"Moony," Sirius looks up from his exploration of Remus's chest. "You're not paying attention," and his eyes are big, brown, and accusing.

Remus wants to explain, but as Sirius slips Remus's arms out of his shirt cuffs, he doesn't find he really needs to, for once in his life. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, reaching up to unbutton Sirius's shirt. The tie probably came off around two or three that afternoon and Remus will find it stuffed in Sirius's coat pocket later and iron it, and Sirius will wear it again, discard it, rumple it, and stuff it in his coat pocket. It's a never ending cycle.

Sirius kisses him, hard, and it shocks him out of his thoughts. Tongues and teeth clash and Remus arches up into Sirius, who slams them both back against the bed.

"Now you're with me," Sirius grins wickedly as Remus gasps for air beneath him. "You think far too much," he says quietly, tenderly, touching foreheads and noses. "Stop thinking," he whispers, and Remus tries, but he can't stop thinking about how Sirius can turn him into something he doesn't recognize, an incarnation of himself he tries to hide, that's only ever involuntarily come out around the full moon, so it must be something to be ashamed of but Sirius brings it out in him so it can't be because Sirius is… rather intensely employing every way he knows of pleasing Remus.

Remus writhes, for once not wanting to take the situation into his own hands. He suddenly realizes that all of his clothes have been removed. He feels hot, heavy, and he can't even lift his hands from the bedspread unless it's to tangle his fingers in Sirius's wild hair. Sirius looks up and grins, a curving, sensual smile that sends something curling inside of Remus's chest.

"Don't…" Remus whispers, tries to speak. "Don't stop."

Sirius pulls himself back up to where Remus is and buries his face in the junction between neck and shoulder, breathing Remus in.

"I won't," he murmurs, and it's odd but Remus can feel Sirius's voice resonating through his own pulse. "I can't." Remus feels an odd mixture of pride and awe and bewilderment. Who is he, that he can do this to Sirius Black, conqueror of women and the most self-assured human living? Sometimes he wonders whether or not Sirius is entirely sane.

There's a movement against his thigh and Sirius is drawing his legs up in a familiar, fluid motion, and then the familiar, but ever-startling feeling of being _filled_. Remus feels an entirely unbidden moan bubbling up from the back of his throat. Sirius catches it in his mouth and swallows it before moving.

"Fuck, Moony," he breathes back into Remus's mouth, and Remus can only kiss him, kiss him and try to draw him into himself as much has he can. Remus loves this, loves this and cannot comprehend just _how _intimate this is. Yes, of course sex is intimate, but for Remus, never one for insincere gestures, the depth of feeling one must have for another to let that person _into your body_ blinds him every time this happens. He's completely consumed by Sirius, by what he feels for Sirius, and he's still too frightened to put a name to it despite the fact that exists. He knows what it is but he can't call it that because that will make it real and that will leave him completely alone in the world. But it won't, will it? These barriers he's been leaving up isolate him more than taking them down will. If he takes them down then Sirius can come in- and there's really no point in keeping him out when he's already _in your body_.

And then the stars flash. Sirius found it. Remus wants to tell him.

"I," he tries, but it comes out as more of an "_Ah,_" and Sirius realizes his victory, and Remus can feel him grinning against his shoulder. And then everything becomes too fast and too hot and Remus is burning- burning with heat and Sirius and that thing, that thing he doesn't want to name. And his hands are thrown up on the pillow and Sirius grabs them, interlaces their fingers and braces himself before leaning down to seize Remus's mouth.

"Sirius," he gasps, and Sirius tenses, Remus tenses for an instant in perfect unison and then the sun explodes behind their eyes and Remus can dimly feel, through the blinding light and heat, that Sirius is kissing him, kissing him and he can feel his own name shaping those kisses.

"_Remus…_" he breathes, "Remus…" and Remus can feel the pieces of the sun falling down around them, brushing them and burning their skin in little shocks of heat and electricity. Sirius collapses onto Remus's chest and Remus can barely move but he turns his head and presses his mouth against the top of Sirius's hair. Their hands are still locked and Remus pulls his away only to wind his arms around Sirius's back, to hold him close. Sirius settles as comfortably as he can and nuzzles Remus's neck. Remus feels ridiculously happy, but empty and hollow and he feels an overwhelming urge to express this to Sirius that only Sirius can fill him, can complete him. So it finally spills out.

"I love you," Remus whispers into Sirius's hair, unsure of whether or not he's even said it. He feels Sirius start, and a tiny trickle of fear starts to creep into his stomach. Sirius looks up, resting his chin on Remus's chest, searching for something, and then pulls himself up so he's leaning on one elbow and one of his legs is in between both of Remus's.

"Say that again," Sirius says, and there's this strange sort of intensity in his eyes and voice, a command that Remus doesn't even think twice about disobeying.

"I love you," he says after taking a deep breath, and despite the hesitancy in his mind (_why am I saying this I do love you but is this the sort of thing you say after seven months with a person?_) there is a firmness in his voice and hopefully in his face that makes something in Sirius shift. He closes his eyes for a minute, leans his forehead against Remus's, and sighs.

"I don't think it's going to surprise you," he says, opening his eyes, and there's something wry in them, "that I love you to a degree that is truly stupid." Remus is suddenly thrown back to that night, the first kiss, the first vomit-cigarette-soap-mouthwash-chocolate kiss, when he first decided to grow a pair.

"You," Remus breathes, suddenly wildly suspicious and hopeful and confused. "How did you…" Sirius laughs, a short, light bark and leans on his elbow again.

"I came after you to the library. I was behind you the whole time. Until you fell, and then you were too busy falling to see me fleeing."

"And you heard, and you…"

"Remus, I've been in love with you for such a long time that I can't even remember when it started. I remember when it hit me, but…" He leans against Remus's forehead again. "I can't remember what it's like to not be in love with you."

And Remus internalizes it, processes it, and he can remember not being in love with Sirius, because it's hasn't been that long, but he doesn't want to remember. But he has no idea how to go about saying it, so he just pulls Sirius down and kisses him until the words are dissolved in their mouth and he knows that Sirius knows what he wanted to say.


End file.
